Let’s talk about something besides weather. Let’s talk about life, the miraculous body, the wonders of the heart, the agony of loss. And what is spirit? And what is love? And what are we here for, anyway?

That’s right. Let’s talk about all the things you’re yearning to talk about, but you’re not sure how to bring them up. Join local poet and scholar Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for this three-part series on the Sufi poets Hafiz, Rabia and Rumi.

The workshops will take place three consecutive Thursdays, May 1, 8 and 15 at 6 p.m. The workshops are free and open to everyone. The last workshop will feature Middle Eastern food and music and a celebration of the mystic poets and the Muslim Journeys series, of which this series is a part.

Wilkinson Public Library was one of just 125 libraries and humanities councils in the US to receive an American Library Association/National Endowment for the Humanities grant to present Muslim Journeys , a scholar-led reading and discussion program designed to foster opportunities for community conversations about the histories, faith and cultures of Muslims around the world and within the United States. WPL’s program began in January.

Like this:

Why just ask the donkey in me
to speak to the donkey in you
when I have so many other beautiful animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
all longing to say something
exciting and wonderful to your heart?
—Hafiz, “Why Just Ask the Donkey”

Dear, though I have come to you
as many other beautiful animals—
long-necked swan and Persian cat—

though I have worn for you
my most vermillion feathers and
sung to you with the voice of the bird

that always disappears before it can be named,
though I have come to you as lamb, as heron,
please, do not refuse my donkey.

Clumsy and stubborn, all tug and bray,
gray and dull and smelling of dung,
of course you would want to turn away.

But please, if you can, meet me this way,
when I am awkward and stepping
on my own feet, yours, too. Meet me

when I am unlovable and love me then.
Though I stink. Though I am not graceful
nor lovely nor easy nor strong. But here

I am, nuzzling your hand as it opens, aspiring to
be nowhere but here. Dear, we are nothing
but flesh for life to push through. I am done

hiding inside the bright wings, or even,
for that matter, beneath the dun hide.
Only a heart touches another heart.